“Don’t be sad,” I said, sharper than I meant. “I’m just retiring, that’s all. I knew I could trust you to keep this place going. It means a lot to me, the club, and it was good to me. I want it to be good for you, too, and I think you’ve learned everything you need to know.”

  “You’re not old enough to retire,” Sol protested. “I have read the laws. I know you are not sixty-two.”

  “Thank you for the vote of confidence,” I said, shuddering a bit. “But when you have enough money and the will to do it, you can retire whenever you want.”

  “But why me?”

  “Do you even have to ask?” I peered at her shimmering eyes, sighed, and handed her a tissue. Tears were just going to have to happen. “You have a great work ethic, Sol. You remember everything I teach you and show you and tell you. You understand what it is to dance on that stage, and you know what it takes to keep this place running. You’ve had hard things happen to you, just as I have. Reap some rewards for all of your hard work. Be good to this place, and it will return your love tenfold.”

  She hugged me tightly—there was nothing I could do to avoid that—and carefully dabbed at her face with the tissue to avoid smudging her eye makeup.

  “I don’t know how to thank you,” she said, her voice quavering.

  I laughed darkly. “Don’t thank me yet,” I said. “Go over the paperwork. I can’t give you the club outright. The taxes on that would be hefty. I arranged a payment plan that will gradually transfer the complete ownership of the place to you. We’ll talk this over for the rest of the week.”

  “Friday is too soon for you to go,” Sol said. “It’s already Tuesday.”

  “We have plenty of time,” I promised her. “I could make my last day today and you would be just fine.”

  I realized that I was going to miss this place more than I thought I would, right down to the obnoxious electronic music so many girls were requesting now. How they could make a routine out of sounds that could best be described as robot sex was beyond me. I should’ve probably admired them more for it, but I would’ve just picked a catchy tune with plenty of rhythm.

  Sol more or less glommed onto me each time I showed up for work, shadowing my every move, taking copious notes on a clipboard. She wouldn’t need them. She knew everything already, anyway, but if it made her feel more secure, I wouldn’t call her out.

  On Friday, leaving the club was especially poignant for me—surprisingly so. I’d forbidden Sol to tell the other girls, to make any big deal out of it whatsoever. I wanted no announcements, no hugs, and no tears.

  And yet it was me, crying like a baby on the drive home after my last night at one of the most important places in my life. I’d left Sol to close, to do the books she already knew how to do, and it had been like leaving a child in the care of a stranger.

  I poured myself a triple of bourbon the moment I got to my liquor cabinet in the condo. Eager to dull my pain at moving on, I drank another. And one more. It was dizzying, and more than I usually drank, but it did the trick. I went straight to bed—no box of letters, no more weeping.

  I felt rudderless upon waking with the realization that I had nowhere to be. Sol was the owner of the club now. It was her responsibility to open up, get the great machine spinning and whirring, all the cogs moving together. She’d do a fine job of it, I knew.

  I decided to distract myself with travel plans. Where did I want to go? What did I want to see? Part of me just wanted to buy a plane ticket to Europe and land without any firm plans. I could travel across the continent, go wherever I pleased, beholden to no one but myself. And I wouldn’t even have an itinerary in mind.

  I’d stopped worrying about the club by the evening, poring over train schedules and recommendations from fellow travelers about Europe. Or maybe I should be more adventurous and try Africa. I’d always wanted to see the animals you usually saw on TV or in zoos in their natural habitats. I could tour the entire cradle of humanity, if I liked.

  My phone buzzed. Then again. And again.

  I frowned and reached for it, noting that my bourbon needed topping off.

  Then, bile rose in my throat. All three texts had been from Sol.

  “SOS,” the first one read.

  “Need you at the club,” the next one read.

  “No time to explain,” was the third, but I was already pulling on trousers and tossing a button-down shirt over my shoulders, jamming my arms in the holes, hoping that I’d have enough time at stoplights to finish buttoning it. I swept on tinted moisturizer, lipstick, and mascara, but that was all the time I could spend on my appearance if I was responding to an emergency at the club.

  I drove as fast as I dared, aware that I had had a drink or two as my lazy day progressed. It wouldn’t do to start my new life off getting pulled over and in trouble.

  What could have happened that would necessitate me getting there? I hoped that I wouldn’t roll into the parking lot to see the club on fire. But nothing else as pressing would present itself to me. Or maybe someone had been murdered inside, or something equally as gruesome. But why call me instead of the police? Maybe Sol was panicking. Maybe she wasn’t ready for this.

  Maybe I wasn’t ready to step away from the club.

  I let my breath out with a whoosh as I wheeled into a free parking spot at the club, happy to not see it engulfed with flames and to button the last button on my shirt. Whatever emergency it was, I could deal with it. I was Parker, after all, and this place was my baby. I’d seen it away from death’s door and raised it to be a healthy, vibrant thing. Whatever it was, I could fix it.

  But I still had no way of knowing what was waiting for me beyond that door.

  “Surprise!”

  I’d thrown open the heavy door to the entrance, already pissed that there wasn’t a bouncer stationed there to do it for me, when I burst into a gathering of people who were apparently all there to see me.

  Overwhelmed was an understatement. I had been more or less ambushed by a throng of people whose faces I eventually began to recognize.

  Sol was in front, laughing and clapping her hands, then Jennet and Faith, arms hooked together and beaming. All of the dancers I’d employed were there, dressed in street clothes, and then I noticed faces from a more distant past—Babs, Mary, and Sally. How had they known to come here? I’d lost contact with them so long ago. They looked good to me—older, of course, but I was sure I looked older to them, as well.

  “What in the world is this?” I demanded, halfway angry with Sol as she approached me, still laughing.

  “It’s a special event,” she said. “My first as owner of this club. Tonight, we honor and celebrate you.”

  “But you’re not making any money,” I protested. “What about the customers? What have you told them? What if they get out of the habit of coming here because you denied them entrance?”

  “There’s plenty of time for me to worry about that, not you,” Sol scolded me. “Who’s in charge here?”

  It was so strange to be here and not have full control of everything that was going on. The only thing I could think of was that the club was losing money, that no one was making money, that I wished everyone wasn’t looking at me, and that I wasn’t the center of attention. I hadn’t been the center of attention in this place for a long time.

  “Now,” Sol said, clapping her hands briskly, as I’d been unable to mount any sort of defense against this event. “It’s time for drinks and memories. The guest of honor gets the finest seat in the house.”

  She escorted me to a table in the VIP section, and the rest of the guests made their way to other tables dotting the floor. There was practically a full house here. Could they really all be for me?

  “I was going over the records late at night all week,” Sol said, delivering a cocktail to me and patting my shoulder almost apologetically. “I felt like I was cramming for a test or something. Then, I decided that I should invite anyone you’ve ever worked with. You keep incredibly detailed records. This is your retirement party. Are you surprised?”

  Surprised would not cover my feelings on what was happening. I was agape at the turnout, more and more people gradually filtering in. There was a customer who’d been a regular for years, and another former bouncer I hadn’t thought of in a long time. It was overwhelming to be practically seated on a dais in front of all of them like a queen. Sol had tried to do something nice, but I was so uncomfortable that I began casting around in my mind, trying to find the best way to duck out of here and slink back home.

  “Parker.”

  All sounds faded. The music, the hum of conversations around me. I turned slowly in my seat, telling myself that my mind was playing tricks on me, that there was no way this could be happening right now.

  But then I saw him with my own eyes, and everything else faded into the background.

  “What are you doing here?” I murmured, as he took my hand and kissed it.

  “Do you think I’d miss this for anything?” Marcus said, smiling down at me. He’d never looked better, his broad shoulders perfectly fitting the tailored gray suit he wore. His salt and pepper hair was tending toward the salt side, but those dark eyes would never change, the light somehow dancing within them. They took my breath away just as they had all those years ago, standing among pamphlets fluttering down out of the sky that were supposed to tell me my future. They had, in a way. They’d told me that my future was with this man, easing down into a seat Sol pushed his way, smiling knowingly.

  “Have I wasted my whole life?” I breathed, tears filling my eyes, blurring the sight of the only person I wanted to see out of all the bodies assembled in this room.

  “What are you talking about?” Marcus asked, sheltering my hand in between his. “Wasted? You haven’t wasted your life.”

  “But I have.” I struggled not to start sobbing. This was my fucking party, and I wasn’t going to ruin it by crying. I threw up dams in my heart, fought the telltale closing of my throat. “All these years, I’ve ignored the one good thing in my life. I’ve done all but shut you out, Marcus. I’ve wasted my life, and I’ve caused you to waste yours.”

  He laughed, and I scowled. “Please tell me how you’ve made me waste my life,” he said, resting his chin on his fist, almost mockingly. Fury easily replaced despair.

  “You’ve not had a single meaningful romantic relationship in your life because of me,” I said. “You’ve had to swoop in and save me from myself. I’ve practically strung you along, you waiting for me to cave in, to forget about us not being able to be together. I decided I wanted to save myself, lift myself up, and yet here you are, still here after all these years, waiting for me. Look at us, Marcus. We’re old. We wasted whole decades.”

  After that tirade, all he did was turn my hand upward and plant a soft kiss on my palm.

  “I don’t feel old,” he said. “And I know that things take time. Maybe we did have to live one life apart from each other. What’s important now is what you want to do, how you want to go forward. If you want to do your own thing, then tell me. I’ll respect that. I’ll stay away. But the truth of my life, Parker, is that I can never stop loving you. I would drop all of this in an instant if I thought you were ready to be with me. All you have to do is tell me, Parker. Or write me a letter. It doesn’t matter. Being with you is all I’ve ever wanted.”

  He let my hand go gently—so gently—and stood up, smiling still, smiling in spite of everything, and then walked away.

  Walked away, right back out of my life.

  The door to the club opened and shut, and I realized I didn’t have another forty years to wait. I didn’t have another ten. I couldn’t wait any longer for him. I just didn’t want to.

  Why had my mom denied the existence of my absolute love for the man who was walking away from me right now? We’d been young then. Maybe it had been easy to just label our attraction as puppy love. But I wasn’t getting any younger, and neither was Marcus. It didn’t matter anymore that our parents had made us siblings by marriage. None of that mattered anymore.

  I’d finally started doing what I wanted to do just by retiring from the club. I’d paid it forward to Sol; something else I’d wanted to do.

  Now, when was the time when I was going to start doing the things that mattered to me the most?

  I pushed myself out of my chair, almost toppling it over in the process, and practically bolted to the exit, bypassing a fussing Sol and a number of surprised old friends. I shoved open the door and sprinted out in the parking lot despite the height of my heels and my aching knees, because this was too important.

  Knowing what I wanted, and knowing I was finally ready to have it without a single regret was far too important.

  A car door shut, and I wheeled around. There. The dark town car he usually hired for his trips to Miami. I’d seen it so often that I associated it as Marcus’ car. The driver was walking back around, and I was running across the parking lot, waving my hands over my head, shouting things that didn’t make sense to me, and not giving a damn about how crazy I looked. I would go crazy if I let Marcus slip away from me this last time.

  My high heels finally betrayed me, and I tripped and took a nasty tumble on the pavement. It didn’t even hurt. I more or less bounced back up and started to the car again.

  The back door seemed to fling itself open and an enormously irate Marcus stepped out.

  “Parker, what the hell?” he asked crossly. “Your hand is bleeding. What are you doing?”

  “What I should’ve done a long time ago,” I said, then tossed my hands around his neck and kissed him, even as his mouth opened in shock. Our teeth clashed, I nearly lost my balance again and dragged us both down, and it wasn’t a perfect kiss.

  However, when he took me by the waist and held me out to look at me for a moment, then brought me back in, it was the perfect kiss, our lips relearning the topography of each other once more, our tongues—once old friends—reuniting joyfully, our breathing becoming one.

  None of the old magic had been lost, and I was vaguely surprised that there weren’t a dozen rainbows and shooting stars decorating the skies when I was able to open my eyes.

  “Let’s go to my hotel,” Marcus mumbled, and I laughed at him.

  “No. Let’s go home.”

  The years seemed to drop away the faster the hired car went, Marcus urging the driver on, his hand on my knee, then higher on my thigh, then at my hip. I didn’t live far from the club, but it felt like ages until we pulled up at the gate, the security guard waving us through the moment I popped my impatient face out of the window.

  The car was still moving when Marcus kicked the door open, hauling me out and scooping me up into his arms.

  “I don’t want to see you fall again,” he said, and then he strode up the sidewalk to the front door where he had to dip down to allow me to use my key.

  Another spin had me disable the alarm and turn on a light, then he followed my pointed finger to the bedroom.

  Both of us wanted the same thing.

  Clothes became superfluous, and we kissed as we slowly fell onto the bed together, working buttons apart, picking at zippers. My heart was clattering against my chest, and my fingers couldn’t touch enough of the man hovering over me, breathing kisses over my skin, making me shiver.

  “I want you now,” I complained, burying my nails in his shoulders, impatient as always. I’d never been a patient lover.

  “I want to enjoy every square inch of you,” Marcus said, complacent as he nuzzled the sensitive skin just below my ear. “I’ve waited this long. I’m going to take my sweet time with you, and I won’t be rushed.”

  It was excruciating to cede power, to let Marcus have his way, to give myself over to his explorations. I’d always wanted an orgasm my way—fast and hard. Could I really wait? Could I be the patient lover he demanded of me?

  Marcus trailed kissed down my skin, his fingers massaging in his lips’ wake, reducing me to a relaxed but aroused puddle of a person. I didn’t know where he’d learned to touch a woman, and didn’t want to know. All I was thankful for was that he was here with me now, touching me just there, glancing over the part of me that craved his attention the most, traveling down to my feet and kneading their strained tendons.

  Neither of us had to say anything anymore. We had been waiting years for this moment, my fingertips running over his still-hard muscles, his tongue tasting the tip of my hardening nipple, places both familiar and completely new, both of us free to take all the time we needed.

  We had all the time we needed.

  Marcus slipped down on the bed next to me and gently guided me up to straddle his waist.

  “I want to look at you,” he said, his palm working its way down my torso, down my belly. “I want to see you.”

  I didn’t have much experience in this position. Marcus could sense my self-doubt.

  “I’m right here, Parker,” he said. “Everything is fine. I want you to try this one for me.”

  With only a bit of scrambling, I lowered myself onto him and felt him fill me up with an aching satisfaction that I’d always been searching for, always been waiting for. The passage of time had made it all the more sweet as we breathed together, two people made into one, the only sound our panting. I loved this man completely, intrinsically, and taking him inside of my body was the best way I could show him how.

  We began to move together, Marcus lifting my hips with his hands until I understood the rhythm of it, the poetry, and we built toward something still far off. He cupped my breast with one hand, thumbed my most sensitive button below with his other, making me toss my head, making me lose time and awareness.

  “Please,” I heard myself murmuring. “Please, please, please.”

  “My Parker,” he said gently, brushing my hair out of my face, “I will give you anything you ask for. You don’t have to beg.”

  That slow ignition inside of me was everything. I loved him so much. The years had only stacked logs upon that fire, making it burn hotter and hotter until the rest of me caught in flames.

 

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